Model Student
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Jonathan Crane reveals to Jervis Tetch that he knew Harleen Quinzel long before she became Harley Quinn - she was his student at Gotham University. The two developed a close professional relationship, and Crane hoped for a closer personal one, until the day Harley takes up an internship at Arkham Asylum, and crosses paths with the Joker.
1. Chapter 1

**Model Student**

"I said get offa me, you worthless brat!"

There was the sound of a shriek, and Jonathan Crane looked up from his book just in time to see Harley Quinn knocked to the ground by the Joker's fist. Crane's hands tightened on the cover of his book, but he took a deep breath and tried to focus on the words again. He had been told off for interfering between them before. It didn't do any good, and it only upset Harley.

His eyes were drawn inevitably back to her as he saw her curled up on the ground, trying to avoid Joker's blows. "I'm sorry, puddin'!" she shrieked. "I'm sorry, I'll be good! I promise I'll be good!"

Joker stopped punching her, kicked her once more for good measure, and returned to watching TV on the sofa. Harley lay where she had fallen, breathing heavily, and Crane saw tears trailing down her face.

He stood up and went over to her, holding out his hand. "Anything broken? Do you need to go to the nurse's office?" he murmured.

"No," whispered Harley. "No, I'll be fine, Johnny."

He helped her steadily to her feet and led her out of the Rec Room and back to her cell. "It was…my fault," stammered Harley. "Mr. J told me to leave him alone, but I was being greedy and disobeyed him and…"

"It wasn't your fault, Harley," growled Crane. "No woman deserves to be treated like that, no matter what she's done."

He gazed at her tenderly. "Why do you put up with it?" he murmured.

She shrugged. "I love him. You don't understand, Johnny, the crazy things that love makes you do…"

"I do, my dear," he interrupted. "Believe me, I do."

"I couldn't live without him…"

"I assure you, you could," he said. "Many people can and do live without love."

"But I…wouldn't be happy," she whispered, tears trickling down her face.

"No," he agreed. "No, you wouldn't be that."

"And he does…make me so happy, Johnny," she whispered. "Not…not all the time, but…the times he does are worth suffering for. They're so…he's so…perfect."

Crane looked at her but said nothing, his mouth set in a firm, thin line.

A knock came on the cell door. "Harley, I heard you crying and wondered if a nice cup of tea mightn't help," said Jervis Tetch, entering the room with a teacup and saucer. "I find it does wonders for me when I'm upset."

"Oh…thanks, Jervis," murmured Harley, taking it from him and managing a smile. "You're both so nice to me, and you don't have to be, y'know. I'm a worthless little brat who don't deserve kindness, that's what Mr. J says. And he's right."

"He most certainly is not," snapped Crane.

"Yeah, he…doesn't mean it," murmured Harley, smiling. "He's probably joking about that. He jokes a lot, y'know."

She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Crane handed her his handkerchief. "Thanks, Johnny," she murmured. "I'm fine now. Mr. J will be in any minute to apologize, and that'll make everything better."

"You do realize that an apology is worthless if there's no feeling behind it, don't you?" asked Crane. "If it's all just a joke?"

"Well, that's fine, Johnny – Mr. J don't usually apologize," said Harley, smiling. "He usually just pretends like everything's ok, and so I do too, and then we forget what we were fighting about. That's how you keep a lasting relationship."

"That's how you keep yourself in perpetual slavery," muttered Crane under his breath.

"I know puddin' don't always show it," continued Harley. "But he loves me, y'know."

"As long as _you_ know he loves you, Harley, that's what matters," said Tetch, gently.

"Hey, beat it, losers!" snapped Joker as he strode into the cell. "Hope I taught you a lesson for interrupting the Stooges, Harl. But they're over now, and it wasn't that long a wait, was it, you greedy brat? Next time you'll do as I say, won't you?"

"Yes, Mr. J," murmured Harley.

Joker beamed. "And that's how you teach a dog to obey," he chuckled, patting Harley on the head. "Didn't I tell you losers to beat it?" he demanded, rounding on Crane and Tetch. "Here, take this crap outta here with you!" he said, seizing the teacup and shoving it at Tetch. Then he slammed the cell door in their faces.

"You horrible, disgusting, abusive…" began Crane, his voice growing louder as he shouted at the door.

"Calm down, Jonathan, it won't do any good," murmured Tetch, laying a hand on his arm.

"You expect me to just put up with being treated like that?" demanded Crane.

"Harley does," murmured Tetch. "It is her affair, after all."

"It's her insanity," muttered Crane, storming off back to his cell.

Tetch followed him. "You do seem to take it all…very close to heart," he murmured. "Is it because of your…tender feelings towards Harley?"

"It's not just that," Crane snapped. "Although I do care for her…very deeply. She deserves so much better."

"We all think that," said Tetch.

"I _know _that!" snapped Crane. "I knew her before anyone else here – I knew her before the Joker ever set eyes on her! She was my student!"

"I didn't know that," said Tetch, surprised.

Crane shrugged. "It wasn't something that ever came up. By the time we were both incarcerated here, Poison Ivy was already her best friend and confidante, and the Joker was her…whatever the hell he is. We don't…talk much these days about…those days. Why would we? We were both different people, both sane…"

"I doubt either of you were ever entirely sane," interrupted Tetch. "Especially not Harley."

"She was never normal, if that's what you mean," retorted Crane. "That's why I liked her. She was different, special…not like the other ignorant blockheads I had to teach. She was bright and bubbly and vivacious and kind and funny and…smart. Very, very smart. You wouldn't know it now, but she had the makings of a very fine psychiatrist. Which I suppose she was, for a while. Look at her now, though. That monster's…pet. Some toy for him to vent his whims on, whatever they may be. It's tragic. And it makes me furious."

Tetch was silent. "Did anything ever…happen between you and Harley at the University?" he asked.

"Nothing…like that," said Crane, slowly. "I can tell you the whole story if you'd like."

Tetch smiled, taking a seat across from him. "I certainly have the time, Jonathan. And I do love stories."

Crane shrugged and sat down. "We met…quite by accident. In fact, it was an accident that introduced us. We…literally ran into each other. I was distracted by a conversation I had just had with the Dean, and I wasn't looking where I was going…"

"Jonathan, have you never heard of dramatic structure?" sighed Tetch, despairingly. "If you're going to tell a story, do try to make it interesting, won't you? Otherwise your listeners will get bored and wander off in search of white rabbits in waistcoats."

"The only white rabbits you'll find in here, Jervis, will be ones in straightjackets," retorted Crane, dryly. "But I shall try to make it more engaging, if you insist."

"You could divide it up into chapters, if you like," suggested Tetch. "That way we can have a break for tea."

"…if you insist," repeated Crane. "Well, let's start with Chapter One…"


	2. Chapter 2

"So you don't deny the incident occurred?" asked the Dean, looking at Professor Jonathan Crane over the rim of his glasses.

"Most certainly not," retorted Crane. "It was a psychological experiment. Part of my class."

"I fail to see where in the curriculum it recommends scaring people by playing on their deepest phobias," retorted the Dean.

"I was merely illustrating to my students the powerful effect fear has on a human being," said Crane. "How it can be entirely crippling, literally paralyzing, unless the human mind is strong enough to overcome it. I am hoping to pass that strength on to my students. I fail to see why anyone would object to that."

The Dean sighed. "Professor Crane, I have accepted that your teaching methods are occasionally a little…unorthodox. The best teachers are often a little eccentric, and there is nothing wrong in that. There is a line, however, when eccentricity turns into…instability. And when a teacher causes physical or mental harm, that line has been crossed. We cannot allow such methods to be used, even for educational purposes. In future, if you'd like to illustrate the effect of this…fear gas you've developed…"

"I call it fear toxin," interrupted Crane.

"Fear toxin, then. I must insist you experiment on animals with it, rather than human subjects."

"But fear in animals is not nearly so illustrative as fear in humans," protested Crane. "An animal when it is afraid merely freezes in an effort to preserve itself. A terrified human being is so much more interesting. Fear drives it to desperation, cunning, and extremes of emotion – violence, hysterics, rage, the whole pantheon of human feeling on display…"

"It is unethical, Professor Crane," interrupted the Dean.

"He signed a release form…"

"It is still unethical," said the Dean. "Even if the subject is willing. I cannot imagine he fully understood the psychological trauma he was going to be subjected to, or he would never have agreed to participate in such an experiment, even for a monetary reward. And there will be no such experiments in the future. Do I make myself clear?"

Crane glared at him. "Perfectly clear, yes," he muttered.

"Good. You may go," said the Dean, looking down at the papers on his desk.

Crane left the room without another word. "Moron," he muttered under his breath as he stormed down the hall, hands shoved in his pockets and staring at the floor. "How is science ever going to advance with small-minded men like that in charge, obsessed with subjective morality and ethics? Who are they to stand in the way of progress? How…"

He suddenly slammed into someone rushing down the hall. The force knocked both of them to the ground, and Crane sat up, adjusting his glasses and ready to unleash a torrent of abuse at the culprit.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw an incredibly attractive young woman hurrying to pick up the pile of books and papers she had dropped. She was slim, with wide blue eyes framed by thick round glasses, and her blonde hair was put up in a tight bun.

"I'm so sorry," she stammered, glancing at him apologetically. "I was in a hurry and not looking where I was going…"

"Oh…no, please, it's my fault," stammered Crane, still awestruck at the sight of her. He recovered himself quickly and bent down. "Do allow me," he said, helping her to her feet, and then helping her pick up the remainder of her books and papers.

"Thanks," she said, taking them from him and clasping them tightly to her chest. "I…uh…gotta run, but…er…thanks, Mr…"

"Professor Crane," he said, nodding at her. "And you, Miss?"

"Harleen Quinzel," she said, adjusting her glasses with one hand. "I'll see you later, Professor," she said, dashing off.

Crane gazed after her, and then sighed heavily. He didn't expect to see her again, but it was just as well, really. A gorgeous young lady like that could have absolutely no interest in him, professionally or otherwise.

He was reading in his office about an hour later when a knock came on his door. "Come in," he said, puzzled.

He was even more surprised when he saw Harleen Quinzel entering the room. "Oh…hello again, Miss…" he began.

"Harleen Quinzel," she repeated, smiling at him. "I felt kinda bad just rushing off like that after I ran into you and everything, and I wanted to apologize again."

"That's not at all necessary, Miss Quinzel," said Crane. "Although perhaps it would be nice to be properly introduced. Please…um…sit down," he said, clearing a pile of books off a chair and gesturing to it.

"Thanks," she said. "And call me Harley. Everyone does."

"Where were you heading in such a hurry today, Harley?" asked Crane.

"Chemistry class," she retorted. "It was my first day and I didn't wanna be late. I was never great at chemistry in high school, and judging by today, I ain't gonna be any better in college," she sighed. "Plus I was late anyway, which I don't think ingratiated me to the Professor any."

"That would be Professor Young, would it not?" asked Crane.

Harley nodded. "The man's a clod – you're not missing much," retorted Crane.

"Oh," said Harley, surprised. Then she grinned. "That's a relief to hear, actually. I got the impression he was an idiot, but I didn't wanna judge too harshly on the first day…"

"A closer acquaintance will only confirm your suspicion, trust me," interrupted Crane. "Why were you…um…late, if you don't mind my asking?"

Harley smiled sheepishly. "I slept in," she said. "I was up late last night…"

"Enjoying the social aspect of college already," said Crane, nodding. He expected nothing less from a pretty young girl like her. "I understand."

"Uh…no, actually, I started a book and…uh…I couldn't put it down. That probably sounds pretty silly, but I really enjoy reading…"

"Oh…no, please don't excuse yourself to me," stammered Crane, surprised and pleased. "I understand completely…I'm an avid reader myself…"

"Yeah, I noticed," said Harley, looking around the room and smiling. "You read all these?"

"Um…no," he said, slowly.

"I don't blame you – some of 'em look kinda dry," said Harley, glancing at the covers. "_A Brief History of Medicine in the Twentieth Century_ is meant to be an ironic title, huh?" she said, gesturing to the thick book which took up most of a shelf.

"Well, I imagine it is brief compared to the huge catalogue of medical discoveries this century…" began Crane.

"Yeah, it was a joke," interrupted Harley. "I sometimes…make jokes."

"Oh," said Crane. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Oh yes…I understand."

She smiled. "It's fine, Professor Crane, I have a really odd sense of humor. Everyone says so – I'm pretty weird. Crazy…guess that's why I went into psychology!" she laughed. "I can be my own shrink and save myself some money!"

Crane stared at her. "You're…studying psychology?"

"Yeah. I missed my first lesson because…"

"You overslept because you were up all night reading a book?" suggested Crane, smiling.

"No. I misread my schedule and went to the gym instead," said Harley, shrugging. "I'm a gymnast. Not a professional or anything, but in all honesty I'm pretty good and I like to keep in shape."

"Yes, I can…see that," stammered Crane.

"I asked around the dorm, and apparently the psychology professor is a bit of a kook," continued Harley. "You know him? Is he nutty?"

"No more so than…anyone else," said Crane, slowly. "I'm the psychology professor."

"Oh," said Harley, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, Professor, I didn't mean…"

"It's quite all right – I've been called worse things than nutty before," said Crane, smiling.

"In my opinion, it's a compliment," said Harley, shrugging. "The only people who make any difference in the world are considered crazy or eccentric. Normal people just lead boring, routine lives. The nutty tend to break the mold and do exceptional things. I've always had an attraction for extreme personalities. They're the type of people I admire."

"Well yes, quite," stammered Crane, positively awestruck. She was absolutely magnificent in every way. He could feel himself falling hard, and immediately tried to reel himself back. After all, she was to be his student – he couldn't have those kinds of feelings for her. Crane was a man with his own sense of morality, and while paying people to sign safety waivers and subject themselves to experiments in fear toxin sat perfectly well with his conscience, a romantic relationship with one of his students did not.

Harley glanced at her watch suddenly and stood up. "Sorry, Professor, I gotta run, or I'll be late again. I'll see you in class tomorrow, won't I?"

"Yes…yes, you will," he said, standing up. "I'm very much looking forward to it, Harley."

She beamed at him. "So am I, Professor. See ya later!"

She dashed from his office. Crane sat back down slowly, putting his head in his hands. "This is bad, Crane," he muttered to himself. "This is very, very bad."


	3. Chapter 3

"As we learned in our previous lesson, the study of psychology is not only essential to understanding how the mind works and why people behave the way they do, it can also be a defense against fears, unless the mind is too weak to overcome these terrors, as was the case with Mr. Smith," said Crane the next day, addressing his class. "For the benefit of those who were absent at our previous lesson," he said, nodding at Harley and smiling, "Let me summarize. Mr. Smith had volunteered to be subjected to a chemical of my own invention, a fear toxin that preyed upon his deepest and most potent terrors. And as we saw, in this particular case, it happened to be spiders, a very common phobia. One might ask oneself why that is – most common garden variety of spiders are fairly harmless. Mr. Smith had a phobia, also known as a irrational fear, which by its very definition, is baseless. Why, then, the fear? Because he is ignorant of the spider's harmless nature? Well, while it is true that the ignorant are prone to greater fear than the educated, fear in an inescapable part of humanity. Why?"

The class was silent. Then Harley's hand shot up. "It's to protect us, isn't it, Professor Crane?" she asked.

He smiled. "Explain, Harley. How does fear protect us?"

"Well…if we didn't have any fear, we'd go around thinking we're invincible and do crazy things like jump off bridges or gamble all our money or...start killing people," said Harley. "I guess you could define a lunatic as…someone who has no fear."

"Very good, Harley," murmured Crane. "Fear is essential in human nature because it is what makes us civilized. It keeps society in line, keeps chaos at bay, and makes sure those who provide safety remain in power. Master fear and you master the population, ladies and gentlemen."

"And you're going to teach us how to master fear, huh, Professor Crane?" asked one of his other students, a bulky, muscular young man, folding his arms across his chest.

"No, indeed, Mr. Richmond, I am not," retorted Crane. "I cannot. If I knew how to do that, I wouldn't be wasting my life in a university teaching people like you psychology."

"What would you be doing?" asked Harley.

He looked at her, and then smiled. "Well, if I could master fear and live without terror, I would clearly be a lunatic, as you say. So I'd probably be rotting away in some madhouse, feeling utterly invincible and completely insane."

"So you'd basically be the same, except you'd be locked up," said Mr. Richmond, smiling mockingly.

Crane glared at him. "Yes, that's correct," he sighed. "Now, I assume you've all read your Freud – I have a small lecture prepared on his theory of the uncanny…"

The bell rang at the end of the lecture, and the students poured out of the classroom. "Boy, what a freak!" laughed Mr. Richmond loudly as he left the room. He knocked past Harley, who was waiting by Crane's desk, and did a double take.

"Oh…hi. Don't remember seeing you on the first day," he said, smiling at her. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Um…Harley," she said.

"Hi, Harley, Jeff Richmond," he said, holding out his hand. "You might recognize the name – I'm quarterback for the Gotham Wildcats and got recruiters for the NFL interested in me."

"Well, how…nice for you," said Harley, slowly, shaking his hand.

"You an athlete?" asked Jeff. "Your body says you are. Hope you don't mind my looking," he added, grinning.

"Er…I'm a gymnast," said Harley, nodding as she held her books tightly against her chest.

"Oh, wow. Must be really flexible, huh?" asked Jeff, grinning. "I like that in a girl."

"That's…nice," said Harley.

"Maybe you and me could get a little lunch now, if you're not busy?" asked Jeff, taking her arm.

"Uh…no, thanks," said Harley, wrenching her arm away from him. "I wanted to talk to Professor Crane about his lecture, actually."

"Aw, c'mon, baby, don't be a nerd," said Jeff, laughing. "Maybe afterwards, huh?"

"I don't think so," said Harley, firmly. "No offense, Jeff, but I don't think you're my type."

"And just what is your type, baby?" he asked. "I think any girl would be lucky to have me."

"Let's just say I like my men like I like my lattes," said Harley, grinning. "Tall, white, and skinny."

He just looked at her. "It's a…joke, Jeff," she said, slowly.

"It's not a good one," said Jeff. "You should probably stop telling jokes. You're not very funny."

"Oh…right," said Harley, slowly. "Well…thanks for that, Jeff. I'll see you around."

He left Harley alone with Crane. "I thought it was funny," said Crane. "Is that…uh…really the type of men you like?"

"I guess. I haven't thought about it very much," said Harley, shrugging. "I'm not that interested in dating – I came to college to get an education, not to find a husband. I'd rather concentrate on my mind than my heart at the moment. I guess that sounds kinda weird too, huh?"

"Oh no, Harley, I'm relieved to hear it," said Crane. "Most people do come to college just for the social aspects and use it as a tool to build connections or network. There are precious few who come here in order to learn. You may be my one bright spark in a class full of dullards."

She beamed. "Well, I thought your lecture was fascinating. And that stuff you said earlier about fear…that was interesting too."

"Thank you," he said. "Fear is my particular area of interest."

"Is that because you want to control it?" she asked. "And thus control the population?"

Crane smiled. "It is because it is the one thing I never could control. I'm a fairly intelligent man, Harley – I was always able to think about things and reason them out. But you can't reason with fear. When blind terror overtakes you, there is nothing your mind can do to control it. That's why it fascinates me. Fear is a law unto itself."

"And what are you afraid of, Professor?" she asked.

"I…used to be afraid of…men like Mr. Richmond," said Crane, nodding after him. "Bullies. Until I realized that they too were acting out of fear, and I don't suppose one can hate dumb animals for merely doing what nature prompts them to. I don't fear them anymore, although I do still despise them, despite my better nature."

"And so what are you afraid of now?" asked Harley.

He looked at her. "I'm afraid of…wasting my life," he murmured. "I suppose many people are. But when you reach my age and the most you've accomplished is a few books nobody reads and lecturing class after class of disinterested students…well, it begins to seem more of a reality than an irrational fear."

"What would you rather do?" asked Harley.

"I don't know," he replied. "I've never been good at practical work…that's why I went into academia. I was always good at thinking and reading and writing, so teaching seemed the natural course. But it hasn't made me very happy, in the end."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Harley, sincerely. Then she smiled at him. "Maybe you just haven't had enough good students. I hope that'll change with me, Professor Crane. I'm really interested in your subject, and I think you're a great teacher. I was wondering if you might allow me to casually consult you about some of the stuff I come across in my studies. I really, really want to be a psychiatrist someday, and I want to be the best one I can. If you could help me, I'd be eternally grateful."

He stared at her. "Oh…no, Harley, it is I who would be grateful to you," he said, smiling. "For giving my life a purpose. For a teacher's purpose is to teach, is it not? To educate bright, young minds. I'd be honored to help shape yours."

Harley smiled. "Thanks so much, Professor," she said. "I gotta go to my next class, but I'll see you in a couple days, maybe?"

"My office is always open," he said. "Just knock."

She nodded and left. Crane sighed. "Get ahold of yourself, Crane," he muttered. "She's not interested, and she won't ever be. You heard her – she didn't come to college looking for a husband. Our relationship must remain entirely professional. That's enough for her, and it should be enough for me. It has to be."


	4. Chapter 4

"_Batman Busts Drug Ring_," read Harley, picking up the paper on Crane's table and scanning the headline. "Who is this Batman?"

"Oh, you must have heard about our local heroic flying rodent before," said Crane, smiling.

"Sure I've heard of him – I don't know much about him, though," she said. "You don't know who he really is?"

"Nobody does," replied Crane. "Gotham's greatest unsolved mystery, aside from why people still live here," he added, grinning. "What with the crime rate and the gangs and all, it certainly isn't the most ideal city to live in, but it's home."

"I get that," said Harley, nodding as she skimmed the article.

Crane looked at her. "You're not a Gotham native, are you, Harley?"

"Me? No," she replied, smiling at him. "I'm from Brooklyn, in case the accent didn't give it away."

"Well, it shifts," said Crane. "Sometimes you have quite a strong accent, and other times it…softens."

"Yeah, I'm trying to get rid of it altogether," said Harley, nodding. "It don't sound very professional, and I don't like it. Who's gonna go to a shrink who talks like me?"

"Surely it's the substance rather than the superficiality which counts?" said Crane.

Harley laughed. "You don't deal with people much, do ya, Professor Crane? Appearance is everything. As a man who teaches psychology, you should know that. Like this Batman guy. He's clearly some sort of nutjob, but he dresses up like a bat to frighten people, and appears to fight crime, so nobody cares if he's really a lunatic underneath it all."

"There is some truth in that," agreed Crane. He was silent. "Why did you come to Gotham, if you don't mind my asking?"

Harley shrugged. "It's got a good university. And it's also full of mentally disturbed people in costumes who clearly need psychiatric help," she said, nodding at the paper. "A girl could probably make a fortune counseling freaks like the Batman."

"If you could figure out who he was," agreed Crane, nodding.

"It's also home to the most famous lunatic asylum in the country," continued Harley.

"You mean Arkham?" asked Crane.

"Yeah. I'm hoping to end up there one day – intern or maybe get a job or something. I just really want to deal with the really challenging cases – the supercriminals and people like that."

"I think they need all the help they can get at Arkham," said Crane, nodding. "They'd probably welcome you with open arms."

"I hope so," said Harley, smiling. "Anyway, that's a long ways off yet."

"I'm not sure it is," said Crane. "Perhaps it would be good to make connections and inquiries there as soon as you possibly can. Ingratiate yourself to the staff so they'd be more willing to consider your request for an internship."

"You sound like you've done this before," said Harley, smiling.

"Oh, dear me, no," said Crane. "I've never networked in my life. But I've read enough about it to understand the concept. I'm much more of a theoretical man than a practical one."

Harley smiled. "In my experience, things work out better in theory than in practice. But it's a good idea. Do you have any contacts there I could call?"

"Um…let me see," said Crane, reaching for his address book. "There's a Dr. Joan Leland I've been introduced to – she seems eminently sensible."

"Oh dear," said Harley. "Not sure I trust sensible people."

"Reasonable, then," said Crane.

"Not sure I trust them either," said Harley, grinning.

"Then you don't trust me?" asked Crane, smiling back.

"Of course I do, Professor," she said. "But we both know you're nutty."

Crane, for once in his life, had no response as Harley smiled at him. She glanced at her watch. "You hungry? Wanna get lunch?" she asked.

"Oh…yes, all right," said Crane. "That would be lovely."

Crane didn't often frequent the university's dining facilities – they weren't known to offer the best of culinary delights. But Harley didn't seem to mind. She chatted amiably throughout the meal about how exciting it was to be at college, how different everything was here than in Brooklyn. Crane gathered that she was an only child from a poorer background – she had earned a scholarship to study at Gotham University, which certainly explained her enthusiasm for learning. She clearly felt lucky to be here, and was a hard, dedicated worker. Crane liked her more every moment he spent with her, which he knew wasn't a good thing, but he didn't care.

He grew even more impressed when he received her first essay several weeks later. She had an insightful, engaging mind – rather brilliant, he had to admit. A little fanciful, perhaps, but then young girls often were. He gave her an A-, which he hoped would give her room for improvement.

A few days afterward, there was a knock on his office door. "Come in," said Crane. He looked up as the door opened and smiled, "Ah, Harley…"

"Hi, Professor," she said. She was clutching her paper against her chest. It was creased, and had clearly been read many times. "I…uh…just wanna know why you…uh…didn't like my essay."

"I did like your essay, very much," said Crane, puzzled.

"Oh. Then why did you give it an A-?" she asked.

"Well…there's always something new to learn," replied Crane. "Nothing's perfect, especially not in psychology…"

"I'm just…not used to getting minuses," said Harley. "Is there anything I can do to improve it? What was it you objected to specifically? Was it the style or the content or…"

"No, no, it was all very good," said Crane.

"Then why wasn't it an A+?" she asked.

He looked at her. "If I gave you an A+ at the beginning of the year, how would you improve?"

"I wouldn't," she retorted, firmly. "I would continue to produce consistently good work."

Crane smiled. "In that case, Miss Quinzel," he said, taking out his pen. "I shall give you your A+, and we shall say no more about it."

Harley beamed. "Thanks, Professor Crane."

He handed her back the paper. She took it, but he kept hold of it. "I have your word?" he said, smiling. "The same quality or better on every paper?"

She grinned. "I promise, Professor Crane. I'm a trustworthy gal."

"I have no doubt of it," he said. "You'll stay for tea?"

Harley looked torn. "I'm meant to be studying," she said, heading for the door. Then she put down her books and sat down on the sofa, smiling. "Just a cup," she said.


	5. Chapter 5

Months passed, and Harley kept her promise. And Crane could no longer deny it. He had fallen head over heels in love with her. They spent several hours a week together, just talking, about every subject under the sun. Crane had never been so happy. Harley had given him a new lease on life – he felt years younger, and more optimistic than he had ever felt before. He even dared hope that Harley might have grown to value him as more than a friend and teacher. She never gave any indication of her feelings, but they had so much in common, and got along so well, that it seemed natural to Crane that she would develop some interest in him. Or maybe it was just his newfound optimism.

One day, there was a hurried knock on his office door, and Harley entered a moment later. "Harley, won't I see you in a few minutes for class…" began Crane.

"Yeah, yeah, can you do me a favor, Professor?" she asked. "If Jeff Richmond approaches me after class, can you say you gotta meet with me urgently? I'm all outta excuses of my own."

"Has Mr. Richmond been pestering you?" asked Crane, eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"Yeah…pestering's a good word," agreed Harley. "I don't wanna go out with him, y'see, but he won't take no for an answer. So if you can just say…y'know…that we got plans or something…"

"Yes, of course, Harley," said Crane. "Don't you worry."

She beamed at him. "Thanks," she said.

"Cup of tea before class?" he asked, holding up a mug.

"Sure," she said, shrugging.

Crane made the tea and handed her the mug in silence. "Mr. Richmond hasn't attempted to…force you into anything, has he?" he asked quietly.

"Oh no, it's nothing like that," said Harley. "I can take care of myself anyway – I've learned basic self-defense along with my gymnastics. No, it's just annoying more than anything else. I don't know how many times I can say no."

"You should tell him if he does not desist at once, you will report his actions to the Dean," said Crane. "It's not right that you be subjected to such annoyances when you wish to concentrate on your studies."

She smiled. "You're kind, Professor, but I don't let it bother me. If we let the bullies irritate us, we let them win, isn't that right?"

"Quite right, Harley," he murmured.

She smoothed back her hair. "I ran all the way here so I could see you before class started," she muttered. "I must look like a mess."

"You look beautiful," he murmured. "As always."

She smiled at him. "Thanks, Professor," she said. "But I know you're lying. I look frazzled, and I'm hot from all that running."

She undid a few buttons on her top and then went to study her reflection the mirror. "Aw, dammit, my hair's all messed up," she muttered, playing with it. "It's wild and crazy – that's why I keep it tied back. It'll go everywhere otherwise."

"I'm sure you would look…utterly charming," he murmured.

She grinned. "I never let anyone see me with my hair down," she said. "It's not pretty, trust me." She twirled her finger around. "Now look away while I fix it."

Crane obeyed. The bell rang and he handed her the cup of tea as he left the office to face his slowly assembling class as they entered the room. Harley emerged from the office shortly after, putting the finishing touches on fixing her hair and redoing the buttons on her shirt. Crane saw Jeff Richmond studying her, and felt his anger growing. But he remained calm throughout the lecture, until the bell rang to dismiss the class.

"Harley," said Jeff, approaching her. "I've got tickets to a concert tonight and wondered if you'd be free to come with."

"Oh…thanks, Jeff, that's really nice," said Harley, forcing a smile. "But I've actually got plans with Professor Crane."

Jeff stared at her. "Professor…Crane?" he repeated, slowly.

"Yes?" said Crane, coming over to them.

"Uh…Harley said she's got plans with you this evening?" asked Jeff, slowly.

"Yes, that's correct," he said. "She wanted to discuss her recent paper. I think it's good enough to be submitted to a journal of psychiatry, and she'd like to know how one goes about doing such a thing."

"Oh…that's…uh…great," said Jeff, looking from one to the other. "Just great. Congrats, Harley."

"Thank you," she said.

"Maybe…tomorrow night?" asked Jeff.

"Harley will be preoccupied with me until further notice," interrupted Crane. "Good day, Mr. Richmond."

"Yeah…see ya," said Jeff slowly.

He left, and Harley turned to beam at Crane. "Thanks, Professor, you're a lifesaver," she said, returning to his office and picking up the newspaper. "I dunno how else I would have…"

She stopped speaking suddenly as her eyes fell upon a picture. She stared at it, suddenly fascinated. "Who…is…that?" she stammered.

Crane glanced over her shoulder at the article. "That? That's the Joker."

"Who's…the Joker?" she breathed.

"A lunatic who fights Batman a lot," said Crane. "He had some accident where he's permanently disfigured to look like a clown, and so he puts on this clown persona using novelty joke items as weapons and killing people with a type of toxin that makes them laugh and smile as they die. I can only imagine what it would be like to try to get inside his head. I hear most of the doctors who've tried have ended up dead."

"Yeah? He's that dangerous, huh?" murmured Harley.

"Oh, utterly psychotic, from what I hear," said Crane. "The worst of all the criminal lunatics who plague this city."

"Worse than Batman?" asked Harley, looking up at him. "I find that hard to believe." She turned her attention back to the photo. "He must have…a lotta problems," she murmured. "He must need a lotta help."

"Well, maybe one day you can give it to him," said Crane.

"Maybe," whispered Harley, gazing at the picture and smiling.

…

"Wait, wait, wait," said Tetch, interrupting the story and holding up his hand. "Harley fell for the Joker the moment she saw his photograph? Are you quite sure you're not misremembering?"

"Quite sure," insisted Crane. "I remember how utterly transfixed she was by it. I couldn't understand it at the time. I still can't, really."

"Can't understand what?" asked Poison Ivy, suddenly entering the cell.

"Harley's attraction to the Joker," said Tetch. "And hello, Pamela. When did you get here?"

"I was dragged in by the Bat a couple minutes ago," sighed Ivy. "He didn't approve of my plan of reducing the carbon footprint by exterminating large quantities of humanity. What are you two talking about?"

"Jonathan was telling me about how Harley used to be his student, and how he was very much in love with her, until she formed her unfortunate attachment to the clown," said Tetch.

"I don't think unfortunate is a strong enough word," growled Ivy, sitting down next to Tetch. "Tragic is more like it. What's the story?"

"It's not finished yet," retorted Crane. "Allow me to continue, and Jervis can fill you in on the beginning part later."

"Fine," said Ivy, shrugging. "Will this make me hate J more than I already do?"

"Almost certainly," agreed Tetch.

"Sounds like a challenge to me," muttered Ivy. "Go on, then, Johnny."


	6. Chapter 6

"Professor Crane, I've called you here because I'd like to informally investigate a…suspicion reported to me by an anonymous source."

Crane stared at the Dean. "What suspicion?" he asked.

"The…source has claimed that you are…having an affair with one of your students," continued the Dean.

Crane's glare deepened. "Which student?" he demanded.

"A Miss Harleen Quinzel," replied the Dean. "I trust you are aware of the student in question?"

"Oh yes," agreed Crane. "And I'm also aware of the identity of your informant, as well as his motivation. But then I suppose Mr. Richmond cannot be blamed - jealousy is a powerful motivator among the brutish class."

"The…informant claims to have seen Harley emerge from your office in a state of partial undress, as well as looking flushed and disheveled," said the Dean, sternly. "The informant also claims that you and she are fairly inseparable outside of class hours. I must warn you that if there is any truth to these accusations, the consequences will be most severe."

"What accusations?" demanded Crane. "That Harley and I spend a great deal of time together? There is no crime in that – we are friends. Aren't a student and teacher allowed to be friends?"

"Friends, yes, but it is an entirely different situation if there is a romantic relationship…"

"Well, there is none," retorted Crane.

"You swear to that?" asked the Dean.

"If you didn't trust me, you should not have employed me," retorted Crane. "But yes, I swear to that."

The Dean studied him closely. "What are your feelings toward Miss Quinzel?" he asked.

"None of your business," retorted Crane.

"It is my business if it will lead to a romantic entanglement between a staff member employed here and a student studying here," snapped the Dean.

"It will not," snapped Crane. "And if it did, I would do the decent thing and quit so that I would no longer be her teacher."

"And is there a possibility of that happening?" pressed the Dean. "In either case, I need to know, whether there is the possibility of a scandal or of a new psychology teacher."

"Neither possibility is likely to come true," retorted Crane.

"But they are possible?" pressed the Dean. "I want a straight answer from you, Crane. Are you in love with Miss Harleen Quinzel?"

Crane looked at him. "Yes," he said, quietly. "I won't deny that that's true. But I would never attempt anything improper whilst I was in a position of trust…"

"People say many things, Crane. What they do is another matter entirely," snapped the Dean. "I imagine nobody thinks they'll commit an act of immorality, but when feelings are strong enough it is difficult to resist."

"Difficult, but not impossible," interrupted Crane.

The Dean stared at him. "Does she know?" he asked.

"I have never told her, no," he said.

"Good. Let it remain that way, and we will say no more about it," said the Dean. "But if another incident is reported, I will have no choice but to dismiss you from your post here. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly, yes," snapped Crane. "Good evening."

He stormed from the office, furious. "The nerve of the man, trying to tell me how to control my own heart!" he growled. "Why shouldn't the girl know?" He paused suddenly. "Indeed, why shouldn't she?" he murmured to himself. "How else am I to know if her feelings are similar if I do not declare myself? I may be denying myself the only chance of happiness I am likely to have…"

His head immediately filled with visions of him and Harley, together and happy, on a picnic by a lake, at a restaurant, and then their wedding and several children. Harley had clearly infected him with her fanciful daydreams, and he couldn't resist the possibility of making them come true.

It was a simple matter to discover her dormitory. He knocked on the door. "Just a second!" said a voice, and a moment later, the door opened to reveal Harley in tears.

Her tear-stained eyes widened in surprise when they saw Crane. "Oh…Professor…hi," she said, wiping her eyes.

"Harley, what's the matter?" he asked, immediately concerned. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she sniffed. "Just been watching the news."

"News?" repeated Crane, puzzled.

"Yeah, it's…upsetting to me," she murmured. "C'mon in – my roommate's out at a party tonight."

He entered the small, cramped room and Harley sat back down on the sofa. Crane sat down next to her and saw what Harley had been watching. It was live feed of Batman chasing down and fighting a criminal. A criminal Crane recognized as the Joker.

"He's so brave," breathed Harley as the camera hazily focused on Batman repeatedly punching the Joker, who laughed hysterically at every blow. "He's being horribly beaten by that terrible bully, and he just keeps smiling and laughing. Oh, Jesus!" she exclaimed, clapping a hand to her mouth as Batman knocked Joker off the roof. "God, is he ok? No, you idiot, nobody cares about Batman!" she shouted as the camera followed Batman, who flew off into the night as policemen descended on the spot where Joker had fallen. "Why don't they move out of the way?" she gasped. "He's not dead…he can't be dead…oh, thank God!" she gasped as the policemen dispersed, dragging a handcuffed, battered Joker into the police car. He smiled and winked at the camera through his bloodied face and missing teeth, and then was shoved inside the car and out of view.

Harley flicked off the TV and sat in silence. "It's not right, Professor Crane," she murmured softly. "It's not right that they can treat him like that."

Crane didn't know how to respond. "Well…of course I advocate the humane treatment of lunatics, my dear, but when they are consistently violent…"

"We shouldn't fight violence with violence!" shouted Harley, suddenly angry. "We should be better than that! We should try to talk to him, try to understand him, why he is the way he is! Maybe all he needs is someone to care about him, to love him or…"

She broke off, crying silently. "It's not right that this city worships one lunatic in a costume while it condemns another," she whispered. "That's not justice – that's favoritism. If the police force had any honor at all, they'd arrest Batman along with the rest of them. He breaks the law, and he should be punished for it, just as they are."

"Of course I agree with you, my dear," he murmured. "But what can anybody do about it?"

Harley looked at him. "They can fight," she whispered. "It may be futile, but it's right. And it's brave. Just like him."

"Him?" repeated Crane.

"The Joker," she murmured.

Crane was silent. She wiped her eyes again and said, forcing a smile, "I'm sorry, Professor, I must look like crap. My eyes always get all red and puffy when I cry."

"You look absolutely gorgeous," he murmured.

She smiled. "Thanks. You're too nice to me, Professor." She took a deep breath, trying to control her tears, and said, "So…what did you come to see me about?"

Crane stared at her. He couldn't tell her like this – she was distraught. "Just…uh…to remind you that your paper is due next week."

She looked puzzled. "Yeah…I know."

"Well…good," he said, standing up.

"You gonna go around to all the students in your class to remind them?" asked Harley, confused.

"No, just you," said Crane, smiling. "I confess to a kind of favoritism myself, you know, Harley."

She beamed, and then snapped her fingers. "Oh, while you're here, I have news!" she exclaimed, rushing over to her desk. "And I thought you should be the first to know!"

She pulled out a letter and handed it to him. "I wrote to Dr. Leland and got a response. She'd like to interview me for a possible intern position at Arkham Asylum, which comes with a job once I graduate!"

"Oh, that is…wonderful news," said Crane sincerely, scanning the letter. "Maybe you'll eventually be able to help the Joker after all, Harley."

She smiled. "I hope so," she murmured. "I really do."


	7. Chapter 7

"I…never did tell her I loved her," murmured Crane to the cell at large. Ivy was crying silently, clinging onto Tetch and weeping into his uniform. They had also been joined by Two-Face and Edward Nygma, both of whom looked on sadly. They already knew how the story ended.

"The time never seemed right," continued Crane. "And something had changed between us…I didn't know she had fallen in love with him already, but I knew there was something different about her, and so there seemed something different about our relationship. We were still close, of course, but as the years passed she focused more and more on her studies. It just seemed natural at the time, and as much as it hurt me, I was content to wait. Because I thought that the right time would come, and I would be able to tell her all that was in my heart. Anyway, she got her internship at Arkham, and then became Dr. Harleen Quinzel. And one day she just appeared in my office…

…

"Professor Crane?" said a voice.

Crane looked up, and his jaw dropped. It had been some time since he had seen Harley and she had changed so much. She had always been effortlessly beautiful, but this time she had clearly put in some effort, which made her even more beautiful. She wore smart clothes and makeup, which she had never worn before, and she had taken to wearing contact lenses instead of her glasses. But her hair was still put up in a tight bun, and her smile was still the same. It never changed.

"H…Harley?" he stammered.

She beamed and rushed to embrace him. "Hi, Professor, it's been ages!" she cried. "Did ya miss me?"

"Very much," stammered Crane, embracing her in return. "How…are you doing?"

"Just great, Professor!" she exclaimed. "I'm loving my job at Arkham, and it's all thanks to you that I have it! I get to meet the most interesting people, and they're all so very nice! There's a man called Mr. Tetch who's absolutely adorable – he calls himself the Mad Hatter because he got this _Alice in Wonderland _delusion, but he's so sweet, really. And there's a lady called Pamela Isley, well, Poison Ivy is what she likes to be called because she has this plant thing, and I get to talk to the former DA, you remember Harvey Dent? He calls himself Two-Face now and has the oddest split-personality, but he's such a sweetheart..."

"And have you met the Joker yet?" asked Crane. "I can't imagine he's very sweet."

"I've…seen him," said Harley, slowly. "Joan - that's Dr. Leland, she's head doctor now - she won't let me interview him yet. She's very protective, and you can't blame her – the Joker has murdered his last ten psychiatrists. They probably just didn't understand him, or pressed his buttons, or something…"

"Those are…some buttons," muttered Crane.

"But I'm sure if I keep asking, she'll give in eventually," said Harley, smiling. "I'm optimistic."

"You're always optimistic, Harley – that's one of the things I've missed most about you," murmured Crane.

She smiled. "I've missed you too, Professor Crane," she murmured. Then she clapped her hands in excitement. "Anyway, I just came by to find out if you wanted to see it."

"See…what?" asked Crane, slowly.

"Arkham," she replied. "I can give you the whole tour – backstage and everything. And you can meet Jervis and Pam and Harvey and everyone else, as long as it's ok with Joan, of course, and assuming you wanna see where I work…"

"Oh…yes, I'd be delighted," he replied.

"Great," she said, beaming. "I just wanted to show it to someone who shares my enthusiasm for psychiatry and extreme personalities…well, we'd better get going."

"Now?" asked Crane, surprised.

"Unless you have something better to do," she said, heading for the door.

"Er…no," stammered Crane. "Just some papers to grade, but…they can wait," he said, grabbing his jacket and following her.

"Professor Crane, Dr. Joan Leland," said Harley, introducing them in the lobby of the asylum.

"We've met. How do you do, Professor Crane?" asked Dr. Leland, extending her hand.

"I'm very well, thank you," said Crane, shaking her hand. "How are you, Dr. Leland?"

"I've had three attempted breakouts in the last three weeks, and the Joker's just killed another doctor," retorted Dr. Leland. "I've been better."

"Oh…sorry," stammered Crane as she stormed off.

"She's a little tense – it's nothing personal," murmured Harley as they strolled down the hall. "It's a stressful place to work, but I enjoy the challenge."

"Hi, Harley! Hello, Harley! Afternoon, Harley!" called the inmates as she walked down the corridor.

"Hi, Harvey! Good to see you again, Eddie! How ya doing, Pam?" called Harley back, waving and smiling at all of them.

"You seem…very popular here," said Crane, slowly.

"Oh, I respect them, so they respect me," replied Harley, smiling. "Kindness counts, I've always believed that."

"Well, hello, Doc," said a voice as they stopped in front of a cell. "You're looking remarkably mentally competant today."

"Hello…Mr. Joker," stammered Harley, beaming at the figure standing behind the bars. "Professor Crane, I'd like you to meet…the Joker."

"Charmed, I'm sure," said Crane, gazing at Joker distastefully.

"How ya doing, Professor?" asked Joker, grinning at him. "What brings you to the nuthouse?"

"Professor Crane used to teach me psychology," said Harley.

"Ah, so you're the reason Harley's such a capable little shrink," said Joker, smiling. "Gotta say, I'm sure I'd feel real safe in her hands if only Doc Leland would let her handle me. Harley's so sweet and sensitive – I feel she's the only person in here who can truly understand me."

"I…feel that too, Mr. Joker," murmured Harley, reaching a hand through the bars.

"Harley!" called Dr. Leland suddenly. "I need your notes from your meeting with Isley on the 25th!"

"Oh…they're just in my office, Joan!" called Harley. "Excuse me for a moment, Professor Crane," she said, hurrying off and leaving Crane alone with Joker.

There was an awkward silence for a few minutes. "So…ya like jokes?" asked Joker.

"Not particularly, no," retorted Crane.

"Ok then," said Joker. There was silence again. "Well, that Harley's a hot little tamale, ain't she?" he asked, smiling. "Bet you've been wanting to bang that for a long time, huh?"

"I…beg your pardon?" stammered Crane.

"Hey, I don't blame you!" said Joker, grinning. "I think any red-blooded male would. Unless you're a whoopsie." His face fell. "You ain't a whoopsie, are ya?"

"No, I am not," snapped Crane.

"Just a question, Professor, no need to get offended," retorted Joker. "Nothing wrong with it if you are – I don't discriminate against people based on gender, race, religion, or sexual orientation. There's only one thing that matters to me – sense of humor."

"I'm afraid we probably won't agree on that," retorted Crane. "Considering you find it funny to kill people."

"Don't you?" said Joker, shrugging.

"No," snapped Crane.

"Then you're right," said Joker, smiling. "We ain't gonna agree on sense of humor."

"If you don't mind, I think I'll wait for Harley elsewhere," snapped Crane, turning to leave him. "Good day."

He walked to the other end of the cell block and took a seat by the door. "Your hair wants cutting," said a voice.

Crane looked at the figure in the cell opposite, who had spoken. "I'm…sorry?" he stammered.

"Oh, don't take it personally – I say it to everyone I meet the first time," explained the man in the cell. "It's the Mad Hatter's first line in _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_, and I'm the Mad Hatter. You've read _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_?"

"Er…yes. A long time ago," said Crane, slowly.

The man smiled. "How marvelous," he said. "I haven't met anyone else who's read it in here." He extended his hand. "Jervis Tetch. How do you do?"

"Professor Jonathan Crane," replied Crane, shaking his hand.

"Very pleased to make your acquaintance," said Tetch. "What are you in here for?"

"Just visiting," explained Crane. "Harleen Quinzel is my student…"

"Oh, Harley's a delightful child," said Tetch, smiling. "And so bright and understanding. She must have been a pleasure teaching."

"Yes, she was," agreed Crane. "Although I take very little credit for how she's turned out – it's entirely her own passion and dedication that's got her here today."

"Sorry about that, Professor Crane," said Harley, re-entering the cell block. "I see you've met Jervis Tetch. How are you today, Jervis?"

"As fit as Father William, if not nearly so old," replied Tetch, smiling.

"I'm glad to hear it," replied Harley, smiling back. "Well, we'll continue the tour of the rest of the asylum, if you'd like, Professor Crane. I can show you my office."

"That would be lovely," said Crane. "It was nice to have met you, Mr. Tetch."

"Jervis, please," replied Tetch. And then he smiled. "Now be off, or I'll push you downstairs."

…

"I didn't say that," interrupted Tetch. "I would never have misquoted Carroll. The line is 'be off, or I'll _kick _you downstairs.'"

"Thank you, Jervis, I'm not sure it matters in the context of this story," retorted Crane.

"Accuracy always matters, especially when one is reciting poetry," snapped Tetch.

"I'm not reciting poetry – I'm reciting my interactions with Harley before we both went mad," snapped Crane.

"It matters when one is reciting tragedy as well," retorted Tetch.

"Can we just get on the with the story?" demanded Ivy. "I vaguely remember your visit, Johnny – did anything else noteworthy happen during it?"

Crane smiled grimly. "Oh yes," he murmured. "Yes, indeed."


	8. Chapter 8

Crane spent the rest of the day observing Harley in her interviews. When the evening came and Harley's shift ended, Crane invited her out to dinner. "That's so sweet of you, Professor," she said, smiling. "But I've got work again tomorrow and I want to get an early night. I'll call you soon and rearrange."

"As you wish," said Crane, walking her to her car. "I'll see you soon, Harley."

It was going to be sooner than he thought. Crane had left Arkham and driven halfway home before he realized he had left his bag with some of the papers he needed to grade inside in Harley's office. He drove back and explained his situation to the guards, and then to the receptionist, and then to Dr. Leland, who handed him the spare key to Harley's office. Crane entered, found his bag with little difficulty, and then was about to leave, when he heard the door being opened. Without quite knowing why, he concealed himself, and was surprised to see Harley entering the room. She didn't turn on the lights, but went over to her desk in the dark and removed a ring of keys from the drawer. Then she crept out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Crane was puzzled. He had thought Harley had gone home – why was she back, and creeping around in the dark in her own office? Curiosity got the better of him, and he followed her out of the office and down to the cell block. Harley looked around carefully to make sure no one could see, and then unlocked the door. She slipped down the hall, where the inmates were sleeping, until she arrived at last at the cell at the end of the corridor. The Joker's cell.

He wasn't asleep. He smiled as she unlocked the cell door. They didn't speak, but Harley had no sooner entered the cell than she had thrown herself into the arms of its inmate, shoving her mouth violently into his.

Crane's couldn't tear his eyes away from the horrific sight. Their mouths didn't separate for a moment, and suddenly the Joker picked her up by her waist, slamming her against the wall. Crane could see Harley's face, deliriously happy as she arched her back, moaning in pleasure. The Joker ripped open her top, sending buttons flying as his hands roamed her body, every touch of his mouth making Harley groan in delight. The monster slammed her repeatedly against the wall, and she twined her fingers in his hair, pressing him harder against her and writhing against his body. Then she gasped suddenly and the slamming stopped. They both just looked at each other, panting, and then his mouth devoured hers in the most passionate, greedy kiss. "Mr. J," she gasped. "I love you."

Crane's heart, which had been stabbed repeatedly, suddenly broke. Joker didn't respond, except to kiss her again, reaching behind to pull her hair out of its bun. She intercepted his hand. "Don't," she whispered, gazing at him pleadingly. "I don't want you to see…I'm not pretty…"

"Kid, you're a stunner," he interrupted. "Now let Daddy see."

She dropped her hand to pull him tighter against her as he kissed her again, and then released her hair. "I like you better like this," he whispered as he pulled her hair forward. "Crazy and wild and free. You're the only one who understands me, Harley, because you're just like me. Crazy and wild and free."

"I ain't brave like you," she whispered. "I have to hide from the world, to conceal and repress who I really am. You don't do that. You're funny and smart and you don't let anyone push you around. You're not afraid to fight. I wish I could be brave like you."

"Oh, you are brave, Harley," he murmured. "You'd have to be, to get involved with me," he said, grinning. "Haven't you heard I killed my last ten psychiatrists?"

"Eleven," she corrected. "Dr. Shaw today, or so I heard."

"No loss," retorted Joker. "No sense of humor."

"No," she agreed, stroking his hair back and gazing at him, adoringly. "Not like you, puddin'." Then she grinned. "How did you do it, puddin'?" she breathed, kissing him. "Tell me. How did you kill him?"

"Oooh, it was a nasty little death, pooh," he whispered, grinning. "But funny. He asked me to tell him how I was feeling, and I said I'd rather hear how he was feeling. He said he was feeling fine, so I grabbed the letterhead off his desk and shoved it down his throat. And as he was choking to death, I asked, 'How about now?' It was a laugh riot, watching him try to breathe!"

"Oh, puddin', you're such a bad boy," she murmured, shoving her mouth back into his.

Crane had seen more than enough. He crept out of the cell block to Harley moaning softly in pleasure, and the Joker laughing. It was the most cruel, mocking, and terrible sound he had ever heard.

…

"Of course it was heart-breaking to me," said Crane to his listeners. "But the most galling thing about the whole affair was that not only had I lost Harley, I had lost her to a man who resembles a clown. If she had chosen Mr. Richmond, I would naturally have been terribly jealous, but I could logically understand it. Mr. Richmond was young and handsome and atheletic, and I am used to women preferring those types of men to the thin, bookish sort such as myself. But Harley chose the Joker over me. An unattractive, murdering psychopath. It doesn't do wonders for the self-esteem, let me tell you."

"Why didn't you rat her out?" demanded Two-Face. "You should have reported her. She broke your heart – it's what anyone would have done."

"It's not what I would have done," retorted Crane. "And it's not what I did. I still loved Harley – I couldn't betray her."

"She betrayed you," retorted Two-Face. "It would only have been fair."

"She didn't betray me," replied Crane. "There was never any understanding between us."

"She betrayed her professional ethics," snapped Nygma.

"And she had a quickie against the wall in a mental asylum," added Ivy. "Honestly, show some self-respect!"

"I'm surprised it didn't wake us up, actually," said Two-Face. "Harley's usually pretty vocal…"

At that moment, a series of high-pitched, pleasurable shrieks came from the neighboring cell. "Oh, puddin'! Oh, Mr. J! Oh, that's it! Oh, harder, Mr. J, harder!"

"Case in point," growled Two-Face.

"Shall we relocate to the Rec Room?" asked Nygma. "They might be some time."

"I would never defend Harley's actions," said Crane, when they were again comfortably settled. "But nor would I want to have been responsible for destroying her happiness. I was angry, I can't deny that, very angry indeed. But Harley had never set out to hurt me, and I don't think she ever did realize my feelings for her. She did not intentionally wrong me, and I would never intentionally wrong her, even if she had. But equally I could not let things stand as they were."

"So what did you do?" asked Tetch.

"I did what any rational, civilized man would do," replied Crane. "I confronted her."


	9. Chapter 9

"I'm so glad you called, Professor," said Harley, taking a seat in his living room and smiling at him. "This is a nice place you got here."

"Thank you," said Crane. "It's…admirably serviceable for a bachelor."

"That's true – it could probably use a woman's touch," said Harley, glancing around. "Any candidates for the post of Mrs. Crane?" she asked.

"Um…no," he stammered, gazing at her. "No, not…anymore."

He cleared his throat. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"I'd better not – trying to kick the caffeine habit," said Harley. "It ain't healthy."

"I wasn't aware you were particularly concerned about your health," snapped Crane. "Indeed, it seems to me that the opposite is the case."

Harley was taken aback by his tone. "Sorry…Professor…is something wrong?"

"Yes. Yes, something most certainly is wrong," muttered Crane.

Harley stared at him. "Are you angry with me?" she asked. "What have I done? Is it about something you saw at Arkham?"

"Yes, it is indeed about an…incident that occurred at Arkham," retorted Crane.

"Was it Mr. Tetch?" asked Harley. "I admit he creeps me out occasionally, but he's pretty harmless…"

…

"Harley would never say that!" interrupted Tetch, furiously.

"Oh, she said something to that effect!" snapped Crane.

"She did not!" snapped Tetch.

"Nobody cares, Jervis, just continue with the story, Johnny!" demanded Ivy.

"I won't sit here any longer to hear lies being told about me and Harley!" said Tetch, standing up furiously and storming from the cell. "I have better things to do with my time – the last time I saw Alice she dropped a strand of hair which I'm fashioning a shrine for! I bid you all good day!"

"I agree with Harley – he creeps me out occasionally too," said Ivy as Tetch left. "Anyway, as you were saying, Johnny."

…

"It's not Mr. Tetch," said Crane. "It was something I…wasn't supposed to see. I left my bag in your office and returned to Arkham that evening to collect it. I saw you fetch the keys to the cell block. I followed you. I saw you unlock a cell. I saw you with…a certain inmate."

Harley's eyes widened in shock, and then a look of horror passed over her face. "You…you can't tell anyone, Professor, please!" she stammered. "They'd…they'd fire me…they'd separate us forever! I couldn't bear it…I…"

"I just want to know if you've lost your mind entirely!" shouted Crane. "It seems to me that you deserve to be locked up in there yourself, Harley, if you're crazy enough to become involved with that monster…"

"Maybe," she agreed, nodding. "We're all a little crazy in love. And I love him, Professor. I love him."

Crane stared at the sincerity in her face. "Why?" he gasped.

She shrugged. "I…I dunno. I can't explain it…I…just know from the first moment I saw him…I knew I needed to be with him. I…can't rationalize it, or justify it scientifically or logically…it's just something I feel deep in my heart, in my soul…I mean, you must know what it's like to be in love, Professor Crane? You can't reason with it, can you?"

"No," murmured Crane, gazing at her. "No…I don't suppose you can."

She seized his hands. "You can't tell anyone," she begged. "Please, Professor Crane. I'll do anything if you'll keep our secret!"

"Anything?" repeated Crane, gazing at her.

"Yes," she whispered. "I promise. Anything. Just say the word."

A terrible thought suddenly entered Crane's head, a terrible but nevertheless tempting thought. He should demand that she pay the price for his silence with her body. He should say that he wanted her to do with him what he had seen her do with the Joker. There was a poetic justice in that, almost, and he had wanted her for so long…

But his good, decent, moral self instantly rejected the idea, appalled by it. He could never claim to love the girl and then force her to prostitute herself to him – that wasn't love. That was greed and selfishness and evil. And Crane had never thought of himself as an evil man.

He took her hand. "I don't want you to do anything," he murmured. "I will keep your secret because you asked me to, and…I care for you very much. Which is why I am asking you to reconsider this madness now. Nothing good can ever come of being involved with that lunatic."

"Maybe not," agreed Harley. "But maybe the best things for us aren't always good things."

She squeezed his hand tightly. "If I can ever do anything to repay you, tell me," she murmured, standing up.

"Harley, what do you think will be the eventual end of this affair you are having?" asked Crane.

She turned back to look at him. "I dunno, Professor," she retorted. "I can't look into the future. But whatever happens, you will always be my true friend. Maybe the truest friend I'll ever have."

She bent down and kissed his cheek tenderly. "Goodbye, Professor," she murmured, leaving the room without looking back.

…

"Well, we all know how the story ends," muttered Crane. "And that was the last I saw of Harley before she went mad, broke the Joker out of Arkham, and became Harley Quinn, sparking a mad, torrid, volatile relationship which has miraculously lasted to this day."

"And when did you go all Scarecrow, Johnny?" asked Ivy.

"Shortly after," sighed Crane. "Nothing to do with Harley, though it's possible that her unintentional rejection of me was the straw that broke the camel's back in the long line of rejection and failure that is my life."

"Hey, don't feel bad," muttered Two-Face. "Nobody here is a winner, or we wouldn't be locked in this dump."

"Speak for yourself, Harvey!" chuckled the Joker, entering the room suddenly with Harley leaning adoringly on his arm. "What are you all doing in here? Is it time for the weekly meeting of Club Loser again?" he chuckled.

He stopped laughing abruptly as everyone glared at him. Joker had never seen such hatred in any of their eyes, and he had seen a lot of hatred before. "Guys? What's wrong? Is it something I said?" he asked.

Everyone ignored him, leaving the room shooting poisonous glances back at him. "Boy, what's eating them?" asked Joker, staring after them.

"They're just jealous of you, puddin', that's all," purred Harley, kissing his cheek. "Jealous of your genius and your handsomeness, as usual."

"Nah, it's more than that," said Joker. Then he shrugged. "Oh well. Who needs 'em? I got all I need right here."

"Aw, puddin', that's how I feel about you too!" cried Harley, hugging him.

"Not you, you worthless brat, the TV," retorted Joker, shaking her off and sitting down on the sofa. "Just beat it, would ya? I don't want you clinging onto me when I'm trying to watch cartoons – how would I ever follow the complex plot?"

"Can't I watch 'em with you, puddin'?" pleaded Harley.

"Only if you promise to keep your hands off me," he retorted. "And I'll bet you ten bucks you can't."

"Yeah?" snapped Harley. "Well, I'll show you!"

She sat down next to Joker, folding her arms across her chest as he flicked on the TV.

A Looney Tunes cartoon is typically about five minutes in length. By the end of the first one, Harley had her arms wrapped tightly around Joker's neck as she cuddled against his chest.

"You owe me ten bucks," he muttered.

"I know," she said, beaming.


	10. Chapter 10

The Joker had never been the most popular inmate among the residents of Arkham, but he had never felt more hated than he felt in the following week. Indifference, irritation, and annoyance was one thing, and indeed he relished these because it meant that his comedy was affecting them, but outright hatred from everyone seemed uncalled for, and downright rude, especially when he hadn't pulled any pranks on any of them recently. Except when he had switched Ivy's shampoo with her hair removal cream, but that had been comedy gold, so entirely excusable.

"Morning, Pammie!" he called cheerfully as she entered the cafeteria with a scarf wrapped around her head. "Love the new hairdo – scarves are very in fashion at the moment, or so I hear!" She glared furiously at him, but stormed off to join the others at the opposite end of the table. They all glared at Joker and Harley seated on their own, and then turned away to ignore them.

"What have I done to become Arkham's most hated?" asked Joker, turning to Harley, offended.

"Red's always hated you, so that's not unusual at all," retorted Harley. "But I dunno about the others."

"Hey, guys, it's a funny prank!" shouted Joker. "I'm sorry you losers can't appreciate comedy!"

"It's not funny, you bastard!" shouted Two-Face. "Can't you do anything but go around hurting people and causing pain?!"

"Hey, we're all in here because we go around hurting people and causing pain!" shouted Joker. "I'm just better at it than the rest of you, just like I am at everything!"

"It's one thing to hurt normal people," muttered Nygma. "But to hurt fellow rogues is barbaric."

"Oh, lighten up, Eddie!" snapped Joker. "This food is barbaric. Pranking people is hilarious. Get your terms straight."

Everyone glared at him again, and then went back to their breakfast, ignoring him. "What's the matter with all of you?" demanded Joker. "Did you wake up on the wrong side of no one again this morning?"

"Oh, for the love of God!" snapped Crane, standing up suddenly. "Yes, we understand you're very lucky to have the love of a beautiful and devoted woman! You don't have to keep rubbing it in, do you?! It's not funny, it's just cruel, and I've suffered enough cruelty in my life! I'm going to my cell!"

"Christ, J, why do you have to be such a jerk all the time?!" shouted Two-Face. "Harley must be outta her mind!"

"It's a riddle to all of us why she remains with you," muttered Nygma.

"Complete nonsense if you ask me," said Tetch.

They all three left the room. Only Ivy remained with them. She finished her breakfast silently on the opposite end of the table, and then headed for the door. She paused, and then seized Joker by the collar, dragging him to her. "I loathe you," she hissed. Then she stormed from the room.

"I…don't get it," stammered Joker, staring after them. "What have I done? Harley, what have I done? They hate me. They really hate me."

"No, they don't hate you, puddin'," murmured Harley, soothingly. "They're just…y'know…upset for Red."

"I guess I don't mind being hated," murmured Joker. "I've never really thought about it before. Because I've never really felt hated before. Who hates a comedian? They're just trying to make people laugh."

"Aw, and you do, puddin'," purred Harley. "You're my funny guy…"

"They don't think I'm funny, Harley," he interrupted.

"I do," she murmured.

He snorted. "You," he muttered. "What kinda audience are you?"

"You shouldn't let it bother you, puddin'…"

"I ain't bothered," he retorted. "I don't care what they think. I don't care what anybody thinks. I just wish I knew why they hated me. I haven't told any jokes that could offend anyone lately. Anyway, who gets offended by jokes? They're in the wrong, Harley, for having no sense of humor. It's their fault. Ain't nothing I've done. Ain't nothing wrong with me."

"No, of course not, puddin'," she agreed.

"_I_ think I'm funny, and that's what matters," he said, firmly. "It was a good gag, and I ain't gonna let anyone make me think otherwise. Especially not the lamewads stuck in here."

But the Joker didn't smile for the rest of the day, and that worried Harley. She determined to find out why everyone had suddenly turned against her puddin', and if anyone could help her figure out human behaviors, it was Johnny Crane.

She knocked on the door to his cell. "Come in," he said.

"Hi, Johnny," she said, beaming.

"Harley," he murmured. "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to ask for your advice," she said, sitting down.

"Well…it's been a long time since you did that," he said, slowly.

"I didn't need it for a long time," she agreed. "But it was nice to know it was always there if I did. Just like I knew you were always there if I needed you," she said, smiling at him.

He looked at her. "What do you want?" he asked quietly.

"I wanna know if you know why everyone's suddenly turned against Mr. J," said Harley. "Has he done anything lately to make everyone angry at him? He pretends it don't matter, but…I can see it's bothering him more than he lets on."

Crane was silent. "It's nothing he's done lately," he murmured. "It's probably something to do with a story I was telling them."

"Yeah? What story?" asked Harley.

"The story of you being my student before we both went mad," he said. "And when I saw you and the Joker together at Arkham."

"Are they angry because you didn't report us?" asked Harley, surprised. "You'd think they'd show a little sympathy…"

"No, I think they're angry because…it happened," murmured Crane. "And they don't think he's…worthy of you. I told them all about how you used to be, bright and intelligent and fun and determined…"

"I'm still all those things," interrupted Harley. "Mr. J hasn't changed any of that. He's just made me happy. I dunno why people would be angry about that."

"Because perhaps they thought there was someone more worthy of you," he said, quietly. "Perhaps they…still think that. Someone who cares for you very deeply and who would never, ever treat you the way he does. Someone who has long worshipped the very ground you walk on, and who would never hurt you. Someone who loves you beyond reason."

Harley looked at him, puzzled. "Who?" she asked.

He looked up at her, and the slow realization sank into her eyes. "Oh," she murmured. "Oh…Johnny…I didn't know. I'm sorry…I didn't know."

"No," he agreed. "And it's best that you didn't. But now everyone in here knows, and I think they're as baffled as I always was by your choice, when there was someone always by your side who adored you and supported you and treated you with respect."

Harley was silent. "Look, Johnny, I told you, I can't give you reasons for loving Mr. J," she murmured. "I just do. And it still feels right, even after all these years. Even after all I put up with…my heart wants him. I've always listened to my heart, and I won't stop now, even if it sometimes fights with my head. My heart always wins out. Just like yours did when you agreed not to report me and Mr. J. I can see now that…that must have been very difficult for you, and a lesser man would have, out of jealousy. But you ain't a lesser man, Johnny. You've always been the best of men. And maybe I ain't worthy of _you_, in the end," she said, smiling.

"You're worthy of everything good on this earth," he whispered. "And if you…accepted me, I would spend the rest of my life hunting down everything good, and giving it to you."

"I ain't ever wanted good things, Johnny," she murmured. "I ain't ever expected them anyway. Maybe to you I seemed bright and confident, but deep down, I ain't ever thought too highly of myself. I never thought I was pretty until Mr. J told me so. And somedays I think he might have been lying about that. See, you can't really change who you are. And deep down I'm a shy, scared, insecure person. I'm sure you can relate to that. But when I'm with Mr. J…I ain't that person anymore. I'm Harley Quinn, his dame, who he picked outta all the women in the world. He created her, and he completes me. I'm all those things I only ever pretended to be – pretty and bright and fun and confident and strong. He makes me happy. Not just with life, but with myself. Maybe that's what love is. And all the good things in the world couldn't give me happiness unless I had the man who completes me to give them to me. And you ain't that man, Johnny. No matter how much anyone wishes you could be."

She took his hand. "But you are…my true friend," she said, slowly. "And maybe that's rarer than a lover. I mean, a lotta people have romantic relationships. But not a lotta people have friends who will act unselfishly and nobly, and sacrifice their own happiness for theirs. I'm not a…great gal, Johnny. But I am a lucky one. Please don't ever think I don't realize how lucky I am to have your friendship."

She gazed at him. "I told you once that if there was ever anything I could do to repay you for keeping me and Mr. J's secret, I would do it. That offer still stands. If there's anything I can do, tell me, Johnny."

He gazed back at her. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, there is one thing."

He clasped her hand. "Be happy," he murmured. "Always. And every time you smile, I'll consider my debt repaid."

She beamed at him. "I can't always smile, Johnny," she murmured. "It hurts if you do it for too long. But that don't mean I ain't happy. Sometimes even smiling gives us pain. But that don't mean it ain't worth it, y'see?"

"No," he murmured. Then he grinned. "But you were always a better psychiatrist than me, Harley. I will trust in your wisdom."

He dropped her hands. "I don't imagine the others will stay mad at Joker for too long," he said. "And if they do, I'll do something to annoy them so they'll hate me and say my rejection by you was justly deserved. If I don't know how to manipulate human behavior, who does?"

Harley beamed at him. "Thanks, Johnny, you're the greatest," she said. "I mean that."

She headed for the door. "Harley!" he called.

She turned. "Do you think if…if you hadn't met him, that…things would have been different between us?" he asked quietly.

Harley shrugged. "I don't think much about hypothetical situations, Johnny. I don't find it very useful."

"Of course," he said. "It was a silly question, really…"

"I think I've always had an attraction for extreme personalities," she continued. "And I think you've always been an extreme personality. I think if I had been looking for something else when I was in college, I think if I had been after a husband…" She trailed off. "I could certainly have done worse," she finished, grinning. "And I think if it had been a contest between you and Jeff Richmond…I would have picked you. I'm not sure if any of that consoles you…"

"Oh, immeasurably," interrupted Crane. "You can have no idea what it's like for a man like me to be told he'd be chosen over a football player."

Harley grinned. "Well, it's true. But I don't regret anything that's happened. I hope you don't either."

"No," he agreed. "One can't spend one's life regretting what might have been. But sometimes one can't help wondering, you know."

"Yeah," said Harley. "I get that." She smiled at him. "Well, see ya later, Professor. And thank you."

"Don't mention it," he murmured, watching her leave. He sat down slowly, leaning back against the wall and shutting his eyes. "What might have been," he murmured. "But I suppose I'll never know. And in this one, rare case, I suppose ignorance is indeed bliss."

There was another knock on his door. "Come in," said Crane.

Tetch entered with a tray. "Cup of tea?" he asked.

Crane smiled at him. "If we speak of true friends, Jervis, you are mine," he said, smiling.

"I've always been of the firm belief that true friendship can be measured by tea," retorted Tetch.

"Mine always seem to be cemeted by tea, anyway," replied Crane. "And sometimes, Jervis, simple pleasures are the best."

"I've always thought so," agreed Tetch, handing him a cup. "When nothing can be done to change a situation, it's best to not try, and just enjoy a cup of tea instead."

"A very admirable philosphy," said Crane, nodding. "Pass the sugar, please."

**The End**


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